Finite fields and escapist chickens.

So, yesterday I managed to completely forget that it was Friday until about noon, at which point I was lounging on a sunny stone wall studying finite field extensions (of the mathematical variety) and occasionally glancing up to admire the Tuscan countryside extending off into the distance below me, also full of finite fields (of the dirt variety).  Right about when my sunny spot on the wall was getting a little too hot for comfort, I abruptly remembered that it WAS  Friday, and that I ought to have been off working in fields at La Talea all morning.  Oops.  Antonio laughed when I told him.

But that was how I wound up working at the farm this morning (Saturday) instead of yesterday.  My job today was to clear out a section of bietola (a variety of edible Italian greens) that was being taken over by this clingy, slender weed-tendril-plant thing.  It's not a huge deal for the bietola, but the bietola are right next to a row of tomato seedlings, where it could potentially do major damage.

I was cutting off that section of bietola at the base (it'll grow back), and carting the whole tangle over to the chickens, who were absolutely delighted.  On my second trip over to the chicken pen, I was surprised to discover a chicken wandering around on the outside of the pen.  She made a vague attempt to run away, but managed to run herself directly into a corner instead, and then, when I took a step forward, she bolted--and got herself wedged in the space between my the side of my shoe and the fence.  So I picked her up, and, not knowing what else to do, put her back in again, by the simple expedient of dropping her over the fence.  She didn't seem terribly perturbed.

I told Antonio later that one of the chickens had gotten out, thinking he'd want to know.  "Oh?" he said.  "Yeah," I said "I put her back, but I have no idea how she got out."  "Well," he said, "Generally they either fly or get under the fence somewhere."  It turns out that the chickens escaping is the norm lately.  They don't go anywhere once they get out: they have no idea what to do about the fact that they've escaped, and food and company are on the inside of the fence.  Antonio apparently makes a loop round the outside of the pen every morning, collecting chickens and tossing them back in again.

Today I also finally remember to bring my camera with me, so there will be pictures of the farm as soon as I upload them.